Bully Lord

Part-99

The leader, dazed and disoriented, scrambled to his feet.  But before he could react, James was upon him.  He used the techniques he'd learned – the knee on chest restraint, the precise finger jabs to pressure points, and the thunderclap strikes – with a ferocity he didn't recognize in himself.  Each move, calculated and precise, chipped away at the leader's resistance.

It wasn't a brutal display, but a controlled one, designed to subdue rather than inflict unnecessary harm.  The leader, overwhelmed by the rapid succession of attacks, struggled in vain.  His initial rage gave way to confusion, then finally, to unconsciousness. 

With a sigh of exertion, James deactivated the Semi-Auto Battle Mode.  He'd discovered, amidst the chaos, a small, hidden button within the System's interface – an off switch for the combat assistance.  Relief washed over him, tinged with a hint of apprehension.  Using the System in public carried risks, and he knew he'd have to be more careful in the future.

He glanced around, taking in the stunned faces of the market crowd.  The young woman, her initial anger replaced by wide-eyed surprise, looked at him with a mixture of fear.  The old woman, winded but unharmed, offered him a shaky smile.

"Thank you, young man," she rasped, her voice filled with gratitude.  "You were very brave."

James, still catching his breath, simply nodded, unable to form a coherent response.  He'd come to the market for groceries, but instead, he'd found himself in the middle of a fight, a hero to some, a potential villain to others.  The incident had shaken him, but it had also ignited a fire within him.  He wouldn't tolerate bullies, and with the System as his guide, he was no longer powerless to stop them.

The young woman, still flushed with anger, cast a critical eye at James.  "Don't let him fool you, Grandma," she said, her voice laced with distrust.  "Those who fight are thugs too.  There's nothing to thank him for."  Her words, though harsh, held a sliver of truth.  James, relying on violence albeit controlled violence, had blurred the lines in her eyes.

Without another word, she grabbed her grandmother's arm, her grip tight with protectiveness, and ushered her away from the crowd.  James watched them go, a helpless feeling settling in his stomach.  He'd acted to protect them, yet here he was, being judged for his methods.

The market, however, seemed split on the young woman's outburst.  A few onlookers, particularly the ones who had witnessed the leader's initial aggression, muttered amongst themselves about the girl's ingratitude.  "She should be thanking him," one woman whispered, her voice laced with disapproval.  "He stopped that awful bully."

Others, however, remained silent, their faces etched with concern.  James, caught in the middle of the social commentary, felt a wave of self-doubt wash over him.  Had he done the right thing?  Was there a better way to handle the situation without resorting to violence, even with the System's assistance?

A gruff voice broke through his introspection.  "You alright there, son?"  An elderly man, weathered and kind-eyed, stood beside him, his gaze gentle.

James, startled, looked up.  "Yeah, I… I think so," he stammered, unsure how to articulate the jumble of emotions swirling within him.

The old man chuckled softly.  "Don't be so hard on yourself, son.  You did what you thought was right.  Sometimes, a little force is needed to stop bullies."

The compliment from the kind-eyed man offered a much-needed salve to James' conscience.  With a grateful nod, James responded, "Thanks, mister.  I appreciate that."